


Silver

by WahlBuilder



Series: Scarves and Mittens [20]
Category: The Technomancer (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gift Giving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:36:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Sean can be sent away any moment now, and Zachariah wants to show his gratitude, for everything.





	Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Zachariah/Sean if you squint.

‘Lieutenant?’

Zachariah was trying to find a way to hold the heavy parcels so that none of them slipped out of his arms, when the merchant called his attention again. ‘Yes, Mr. Goodsman?’ he grunted. The smallest package was slowly sliding down, and the tips of his fingers cramped when he tried to stop it. The edges of the parcels were digging into his armpits.

The merchant smiled and looked around in a way that screamed ‘conspiracy!’. ‘I heard you were asking around for certain items, Lieutenant.’

Zachariah froze. John Goodsman had proven himself to be able to stay discreet, and of course all merchants kept tabs on their clients. Especially when the clients were the technomancers. Still, Zachariah ran through a mental list of things he’d been asking about lately. The list was quite long. ‘Yes?’

‘I think I have just the thing you want. It’s perfect, Lieutenant, you won’t find anything like it in Ophir and even,’ Mr. Goodsman leaned to Zachariah over the counter and lowered his voice, ‘on the black market.’

Zachariah tried not to panic—and not to drop all the parcels, then he gave up and put them down on the countertop. If only he could put the panic down just as easily…

The merchant disappeared into the back of the store, clearly certain Zachariah absolutely needed to see ‘just the thing’ he apparently wanted. And when Zachariah had psyched himself up for an ASC ambush or a raid, Mr. Goodsman returned, carrying a small thing with a reverential look on his face. ‘There it is, Lieutenant.’ His voice had a matching reverential softness. The merchant lowered the small thing on the countertop and made a step back, as though thinking he was not worthy of opening it. ‘Please, take a look!’

Zachariah looked at the pretty unassuming… thing. It was flat, and whatever it was, it had sagged in the merchant’s hands. It was wrapped in simple undyed cloth, possibly for protection. Didn’t look like a tablet Zachariah had almost expected.

He picked the upper edge of the wrapping and pulled it aside. Then froze, staring. Then unwrapped it fully.

He could understand the merchant’s care now.

Zachariah hesitated, but then touched it with the very tips of his fingers. He looked up. ‘Is it genuine?’ he managed, and his voice came out hoarse.

The merchant was smiling. ‘Yes! Absolutely! I acquired it by chance, and I didn’t know what to do with it, frankly, until I heard about your inquiries. So if you want, it’s yours…’

‘Yes,’ Zachariah croaked, closing the wrapping cloth hastily. ‘Yes, I’ll take it. Name the price, any price.’

 

All the way back to the Chapel Zachariah made with his heart beating so hard the tips of his fingers were prickling with electricity, and even the few parcels dropping out of his hold along the way couldn’t dampen his mood.

The precious soft package was under his jacket, just over his heart, soaking in the beats. Zachariah wondered whether it would throb when he delivered it.

He dropped the parcels at the Great Master’s office, with the Great Master’s thanks and a tired smile. Zachariah understood that he was one of the last lifelines the Order had, connecting it to the outside world. The ASC was cranking up the ‘security’ with each passing day, closing in on them, cornering them. And Master Ian was not a miracle-worker.

Still, Zachariah couldn’t let such thoughts darken his day. Not this day.

A few brothers stood on a long ladder in the main hall of the Chapel, shouting up and down at each other, trying to fasten a string of lights to the statue holding the Abundance banner.

Zachariah snickered when he realized they didn’t notice that the other end of the string was slowly slipping down the nose of another statue.

He felt… springy, ready to burst, like in the moment before he had been about to charge his training weapon for the first time.

He asked around and thanked for directions. It was hard not to break into a run, and he nearly did run when he hopped up the steps to the Archives. It was a secluded place rarely visited by anyone, so… Ideal for what he had in mind.

Zachariah’s heart was thumping so hard the front of his jacket seemed to be visibly moving, and it picked up pace just a notch more when he found, at last, a figure clad in dark gray by one of the desks.

The lamp on the desk was lit, the only definite light in the ambient twilight of the Archives. The figure moved, and Zachariah heard the rustle of paper.

‘Did you want something, Zachariah?’

Zachariah startled, grinned, and his heart made a few funny things in his chest when he strode between desks to his mentor. ‘How do you know it’s me, Master Sean?’

There was a paper book in front of his mentor, thick and yellow in the harsh light. Zachariah didn’t recognize the language it was printed in. His mentor looked up, a small smile on his lips, the light illuminating the metal specks in his irises. ‘I know the feel of your gaze and the sound of your steps. And it’s just “Sean” now, as I have told you.’

Zachariah grinned again. ‘I know, _Master_.’ He hesitated, his grin wavering. It wouldn’t be long now. Master Sean would be sent to the front any moment now. There was no time…

Master Sean was looking at him as though he had all the time in the world and was ready to wait forever for Zachariah’s move.

Zachariah swallowed. ‘It’s the end of the year, and I haven’t thanked you for, for everything yet, so I thought… And I asked things about you…’ He trailed off, battling with his own jacket, trying to open it. His fingers were shaking.

A hand covered his palms, and he startled from the small shock of discharge that passed between them. His hands stilled. He looked at his mentor.

Sean’s eyes were soft, even though his face was all stern lines. Zachariah suddenly wondered how old his mentor was. He asked about other things, but not this one.

‘Breathe with me, Zachariah.’ His mentor took a deep breath, coming from the stomach up into the chest, and then breathed out in reverse, from the chest then from the stomach, and Zachariah followed suit. Like during his training. His mind cleared somewhat.

Master Sean smiled. ‘Good. And seeing you take on the oaths was enough of a reward for me. I was worried I would be sent away before witnessing that.’

Zachariah lowered his eyes, looking at his mentor’s hands, ungloved. The gloves were on the desk by the book. He noticed for the first time all the small burns that were usual for all technomancers—but along with them, fine white lines that looked like cuts.

Master Sean released his hands, and Zachariah wrestled his jacket into submission and pulled out the wrapped gift. ‘Happy New Year! And happy birthday, Master.’ He held it up and quickly clasped his hands behind his back when Master Sean took it from him.

‘So this is what you asked about? My birthday? Or rather, the lack thereof,’ Master Sean said.

It turned out, like many other technomancers, Master Sean didn’t know the actual date of his birth. So, like many other in the Order, his birth day was set at the beginning of a year.

Like Zachariah’s, too.

Zachariah watched his mentor unwrapping the gift, and Master Sean, having removed the cloth, held it in his hands.

Zachariah glanced at him and nearly bounced on his feet at the sight of the smile on his mentor’s face. Sean liked it!

The scarf was a beautiful thing, thin and fluffy and, as Zachariah hoped, warm, woven in a repeating intricate pattern of swirls and coils, silver on dark grey. The fluff made it look as though it was surrounded by a halo.

‘Thank you, Zachariah,’ Master Sean said in a quiet and earnest voice that moved Zachariah so powerfully.

He smiled, his eyes burning. He wouldn’t diminish this moment by saying, _It’s nothing_ or hurt both of them more by saying, _I don’t want you to leave_.

He said, ‘I hope it will keep you warm.’

‘It will, Zachariah, it will.’ Master Sean lifted the scarf and draped it over his shoulders, then raised his eyebrows. ‘How do I look?’

Zachariah laughed helplessly. ‘Breathtaking.’

‘Hm, truly?’ Master Sean run his hands over the scarf, thoughtful. Then blinked and looked at Zachariah. ‘I shall give you something, too.’ And before he could protest, Zachariah was given a pair of gloves. Sean’s gloves.

He swallowed. ‘I… I can’t, Master. They are yours.’

‘And now, yours. From mentor to student.’ And Zachariah couldn’t refuse. He closed his fingers on them, feeling the yield of the material and the lines of wire. His mentor smiled at him and leaned back on the chair. Zachariah had seen him this relaxed only a few times. ‘Try them on.’

Zachariah pulled off his own gloves and put Sean’s right one on—still warm, somehow. And laughed. ‘A little too big, Master.’

Master Sean waved. ‘You’ll grow into them, I’m sure.’ Something softened in his regal face. ‘Happy birthday, Zachariah, and I wish the next year will be kind to you.’

Zachariah, one hand bare, another gloved, took his mentor’s scarred hands and squeezed. ‘And to you, too, Sean.’

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out angstier than I intended.


End file.
